Land of Contusions, or, The Annaception
by Writer Awakened
Summary: And you thought they were all sisters! Hungry for world domination and maybe a sandwich, Anna leads her clone army on a march to take over the world. Also, "Anna" doesn't look like a real word anymore.


_Land of Contusions, or, The Annaception_

- O -

"Order, order!" the redhead shouted, thrusting her longsword into the air. Her little bear keychain dangled lifelessly off the hilt as she raised it high above her head, voice coming to a crescendo. In an instant, the grand hall full of fellow redheads fell silent. "The one thousand, nine-hundred and eighty-fifth gathering of the Secret Society of Saleswomen Sisters is now officially in session!"

The "sisters" all hissed ("_SSSS_!") in solemn solidarity with their sworn _soeur_.

"Girls, it is finally time to put our long overdue plan into action," said the leader, the "Supreme Anna," Anna Prime. She stood high upon an austere grey podium, in a grey hall with grey walls. Behind her, on a giant glass screen, the face of Big Sister, smiling ditzily and holding in clenched fist a wad of cash. And in front of her, all looking at the Supreme Anna (or maybe at the big-ass head on the screen), her army of curiously identical sisters, innumerable but clearly in the thousands, with many more just like her clamoring to get inside their warehouse of war. To a woman they each were still, red ponytails still in the frigid air, serrated swords at their sides, and their Armor of Alliteration all aligned in awesome arrays over their chests.

"Girls, today we claim for ourselves what is rightfully ours!" cried Anna Prime. "Today, Ylisse. Tomorrow, the _world_!"

The army cheered in approval.

"You were all made in my image, my 'sisters,' and with your divine creation comes a host of fantastic abilities inherent to you and you alone! First, the ability to fleece innocent customers and sell your services with a smile!"

On cue, the Annas winked.

"Second, the ability to both savagely and brutally hack our enemies to bits with blades..._and_ heal boo-boos!"

Another cheer from the crowed. One Anna, in her enthusiasm to show off her shiny staff, clonked one of her "sisters" in the head and almost started a full-on brawl.

"And third," said Anna Prime, raising her voice to quiet the clamor, "the ability to make embarrassingly terrific merchantly puns in the heat of battle without missing a beat! This is your gift, my sisters—our gift!—and we shall use these gifts at Christmas time to great effect! Embrace it...respect it...harness your abilities, for the blessing of the Divine Dragon is upon those who have the most gigantic stacks of cash

"And remember, for our valued customers: buy one stupid joke, get another absolutely free. Don't be shy to hand out free samples, my sisters!"

The crowd erupted again, and it was minutes before the peals of laughter and revelry had subsided.

"The foolish people of the world suspect nothing, nothing!" Anna Prime continued when the hush had again nestled over her army. "They all still believe that we are but humble 'sisters', perhaps a gift from Naga to the common dragon-fearing citizens of the world, bestowing upon them fantastic deals and also eye candy.

"BUT! They do not realize that we are here, we are listening, and we are far more than mere sisters. We share one heart, one mind, spread across many bodies, and we all share but one magnificent, immaculate, rightly-guided goal!"

All at once, Anna Prime and the rest of the Annas cried "CASH!" (some of them cried "Gold!" and others cried "Money!" and one of them for some strange reason yelled "World peace!")

"Now, my sisters!" Anna Prime was coming to a swell. "When next the poor, foolish citizens of Ylisse turn to their windows, they will see nothing but Annas! Annas upon Annas, within Annas! One huge, crushing, implacable tide of Annas! Annas, Annas, everywhere, _and not a drop to driiiiiiiink_!"

Night fell that day upon the Fortress of Multitude, large and containing multitudes of overly excitable money-grubbers each waiting for the moment when Anna Prime would give the order to take what was rightfully theirs, their ancestral birthright of Ylisse, the land aided by generations of Annas extending back to the reign of the first Hero King, Marth himself. Also money. Lots of money.

- O -

As it were, Anna Prime's convictions that they would take over the world (Of course!) were more than just hot air. They left their secret base somewhere in the middle of wherever, and within two days they had reached Southtown, numbers by that point totaling nearly forty thousand, and with the element of surprise on their side. It was evening, and the knights stationed at the gate were about to lock up when the first wave of Annas fell upon them, in a deluge of silver and steel and a shower of gold. Lots and lots of gold.

The merchants' boots sounded like thunderclaps against the stone street as they charged forth. Left and right the soldiers and citizens fell to the clones' swords and were promptly looted. In the air the scent of cloying cheap perfume and fresh blood lingered like the stench of death or a bad fart. The town guard might have stood a chance were they prepared (a very, very slight chance.) Instead it was a massacre, with the frontline falling to the most Anna-like of all the Annas, the genetically enhanced super-soldiers known as the Annamals, Annas crossed with taguel and manaketes to astounding results. The rest of the soldiers and mercs in town fell soon after as the red wave of bloodthirsty warmongering ware-mongers fell upon them and the streets were painted red. With blood. Which was red.

All around the Annas reveled, seeing their enemies driven before them, hearing the lamentations of the cheap and the habitual window-shoppers. A few riders had escaped the slaughter and rode ahead to worn the rest of Ylisse of the clone war that had begun, barely evading the clutches of the SSSS's cavalry brigade, the Equestriannas. No matter. Anna Prime contentedly surveyed the blasted landscape that once was Southtown (the Anna Demolition Squad had had a field day.)

On the other side of town, furthest from the marching feet of the clone army's vanguard, two ex-brigands stood, watching the place in the distance where they knew the Annas would soon emerge.

"Vincent," said one, named Victor. "I am afraid. We are much in trouble, alas, my dear. Goodness gracious are we in trouble. But—and I never thought I would say this—I don't actually think running away would do anything this time."

"Goodness no, Victor," said the other, named Vincent. "An, er 'tactical retreat' would not save us...especially if that brigade of mounted redheaded females returns! No, we must stay. Here is the safest place, I am assured of this!"

"The safest place? Have you—did you use up all of that Spirit Dust? Did...did you snort it? Did you snort it, Vincent?"

"Oh, Victor, did you hear the news today? They say the danger's gone away!"

"Oh my, Vincent, but you are quite an idiot. No one in their right mind would say that. No, in fact, I think I just accidentally stepped on a—yes, yes I did, stepped on a corpse."

The two ex-brigands looked back at the poor dead guy lying in the street.

"Dead as a doornail, Vincent!"

Vincent shook his head. "Oh dear, oh my, oh my oh dear, oh dear oh my. This is simply a tragedy. And to think we could have made a pretty penny selling—well, one of them to those awful slavers. It would have funded our hon—er, our glorious vacation to Magvel! Oh, how simply marvelous it would have been!"

"Oh, would it have been marvelous, Vincent?"

"Been marvelous, it would have been, Victor!"

"Would been, marvelous have, it would, Vincent!"

"Gracious. Tell me this isn't happening, Victor!" cried Vincent, shaking his head. His grip loosened on his baton, slick with sweat. "Surely this can't be happening!"

"Surely this is," replied Victor. "And don't call me Happening."

"Oh, Victor! Even your brilliant witticisms fail to amuse me now. Oh, I'm simply in _such_ a bad way right now."

"Vincent, faithful companion, shall I call my dear friend Vladimir to accompany us in our final moments?" Even then, Victor could see on the horizon the horde of Annas, riding forth to meet everyone else's doom.

"No, no, Victor, let us wait alone...together...for the end to come. It will come, soon enough."

"Yes, let us wait."

The two ex-brigands sat down on the side of the road. For a moment, they sat there silently (and probably for the first moments in their life) and watched. Victor had never noticed how beautiful Southtown could be at sunset, the way the sun hit the cobbled road and cast shadows over thatched-roofs as it slid beyond the mountains. Vincent just really wanted a sandwich.

"What are we waiting for, Vincent?" Victor at last asked. "I've been waiting so long I think something just fell off. I'm not sure; might have to check, but I think that one of my body parts might have fell asleep, gangrened, and fell off in the time we were sitting here."

"We've been sitting for two minutes."

"Oh," vociferated violent Victor. "I see."

"Shall we go sit in trash cans, smother ourselves with banana peels, and poke our heads out of them, occasionally monologuing when we feel like it?"

"No, I'm rather not in the mood tonight. Although normally I would find that heart-stoppingly irresistible. Sorry, my dear."

"I understand. This _is_ a trying time," said Vincent. You understand, I am only trying to make our last moments more comfortable for the both of us, you see. But mostly for me. But also for you!"

"But again, Vincent, I must ask: what are we waiting for?"

"For our deaths?"

"No, I don't think that's it."

"For Vladimir?"

"I do believe, Vincent," said Victor, "that I don't know who the bloody hell Vladimir is."

"For Godot?"

"...okay, now you're just being stupid."

"Well then, I don't know," Vincent said, his frustrations beginning to show. The Annas were almost close enough to smell. "Looks like the Annas are almost here."

"That they are."

"And their swords are awful sharp."

"That they are."

"And it seems many many people think our dialogue is meaningful and revelatory."

"That it does, and that they do, and that it is."

"Well then," said Vincent. "Shall we die?"

"Yes, let us die."

And they died.

- O -

The poor souls who fell that day to the merchants' blades would be forever remembered (except Vincent and Victor, whose graves were inexplicably marked "Paul" and "Jasmine") as casualties of a bloody battle that by all accounts probably shouldn't ever have happened. Those who lived by some stroke of luck or perhaps a well-timed Miracle carried with them to their graves the terrifying, nightmarish sound of swords rising and falling and the repeated echoes of the Annas' battle cries. Cha-ching! _Cha-ching! _**Cha-ching! **For all eternity, the sound of a cash register opening would trigger the survivors' awful remembrances, and 50% off sales became orgies of blood and horror.

- O -

Hello. My name is Ben Kearns. Stay tuned for Part 2 of this 37-part installment of my award winning ANNA documentary: _Anna_.

(This accurate retelling of the story of our Glorious Leader, the Supreme Anna Prime, has been a production of the Anna News Network of Annas. This program has been brought to you by the History ChANNAel...

...by Big Z, the cheapest grocer this side of Regna Ferox!

...by Roach Brothers, the cheapest grocer that side of Regna Ferox!

...by Twinkies. ...They're Twinkies.

...and by Viewers like Anna.


End file.
